A Little Bit of TLC
by KricketWilliams
Summary: After Morgan gets shot, Garcia offers to be his personal attendant. But how personal will things get? Spoilers for "Perennials". I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hurray! I finally got a chance to write over lunch break... Of course, our decadent scene with Morgan and Garcia last week was burning in my brain, and I got multiple requests to do something with it, SO!...Here's what I came up with...Moving a little slower with this one because life is so hectic...Still, I hope you enjoy!

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**A Little Bit of TLC**

Penelope strode toward Derek's office with a smile on her face. She'd been worried about him earlier when he'd been shot, but after their brief—and sort of naughty—encounter that had happened once he'd returned, she was feeling much better.

Her steps slowed as she thought about that moment. She'd felt the heat and strength of his rippled abs under the bandage, the taut skin nearly palpable through the gauze. A flush heated her cheeks, both with sensual memory and with a bit of shame. She shouldn't have been thinking sexual thoughts when he'd been injured, but the moment he'd exposed himself to her...

Thinking of him exposing other parts of himself caused a wash of heat, and she started to fan herself as she walked. _Whew!_ She needed to get a date, and soon, or she was going to jump her poor, unsuspecting, albeit flirtatious best friend.

It was _nothing_. She had to remember it was nothing.

She stopped in her tracks and groaned. She'd tried to tell Jayje that, too, and she didn't seem to buy it any more than Penelope was feeling it right now. Who was she kidding? It was so obvious how she felt about her muscled stud muffin, anyone with eyes could see.

Except the object of her affections himself.

"Move on, Garcie," she told herself out loud before she walked into her best friend's office.

They were staying awhile longer tonight at the BAU to help with an emergent case, and then they were going to catch a movie and spend some time together because he'd worried her so. He wanted to make it up to her.

She just wanted to be near him.

"Hey, angelfish. Are you—oh!"

She paused as she stared at Derek, sitting behind his desk. His eyes were closed, and he was panting like she had been a few moments ago. His panting didn't look pleasurable. His looked very, very pained.

She rushed to his side. "Derek, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and forced a grin that looked more like a grimace. "Yeah...Baby...Girl."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lover, you do not look okay. You're sweating, and you don't usually sweat. I mean, you sweat—I've watched you work out in your skivvies enough to know that you sweat quite a bit—but you usually don't sweat just sitting there at your—"

"Hush," he interrupted. He was breathing normally again, and he had the slightest smile. "Honey, I'm fine."

She shot him the hairy eyeball of disbelief.

"Relax, pretty girl," he said with a chuckle, and he raised his hands to ward her off. A consecutive second later, he drew his breath in sharply and he winced...slightly.

She put her hands on her rounded hips and gave him the same look teachers gave their naughtiest pupils. "No lying to me, Derek Morgan."

"I wasn't lying..." hesaid and then mumbled, "a second ago."

"Hot Stuff," she growled in warning, stomping her foot.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly. "I may have overdone it a bit."

She watched as he stood and walked to her. He rubbed his hands over his side and abdomen, and he didn't bother to hide the pained expression he had. Poor baby... Those luscious muscles had to be tender.

"A bit!" she said. "Derek, what did the doctor in the ER tell you?"

"I didn't see a doctor," he groused. "It was a medic."

She rolled her eyes.

He sighed and said in a patronizing tone, "It was just basic discharge stuff. Relax. Don't run. Don't kick down doors... That stuff."

"I don't believe you. In fact," she said, beginning to panic a touch. "What's _really_ under those bandages? A gaping hole two feet wide?" She reached for the hemline of his shirt.

"Calm down, Momma Bear," he said, chuckling and holding her wrists in the strong but tender manacles of his hands. "It's nothing that bad. I moved awkwardly and bumped my ribs. I haven't taken my pain meds...and I'm feelin' it."

Derek? Graceful gazelle Derek Morgan moved awkwardly? He was hurting a lot more than he was willing to admit!

"Why haven't you taken your meds?"

He shrugged. "I have to drive home."

"I'll drive you," she said, reaching for his jacket. "You know that. You should've taken that hours ago. Where is your medication?"

His expression was stubborn. "I'll take it when I get home."

"Now, Hot Stuff."

"No, Garcia."

_Oooh. A Garcia instead of a nickname. He wanted to play hardball with his health, __hmmm? This__ called for drastic measures!_

"Speaking of mommas," she said, plucking her cellular out from under her left shoulder bra strap. She knew she was playing dirty, calling Fran, but this was serious business.

Derek panicked, his brown eyes huge like saucers. "Don't call her!"

She held out her hand. "Then hand me your discharge instructions."

"Blackmail?" He arched a brow at her. "Really, Baby Girl?"

An unwanted flush of shame rolled over her. No one arched a brow quite like Derek. It was authoritative, like the finely curved exclamation point at the end of a command. It almost quelled her resolve.

_Almost._

"Your fault for underestimating my concern for you, peaches," she said and tapped her cellular to start dialing.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he reached for her hand and took her phone, although he winced in pain as he did it.

"Don't hurt yourself," she warned and then added, "Besides, you know I have two other cells _and _an office nearby..."

He muttered under his breath and then turned to his desk, pulling out a folded over sheet of carbon paper. He thrust it at her. "Here."

Penelope scanned the doctor's discharge orders, and she started to frown immediately. "You were supposed to take the rest of the day easy!"

"I did take it easy."

"You're working!"

"Doing desk work is easy."

"Not when you're hurt!" she snapped and then narrowed her eyes at him. "And I do desk work—it is not always easy."

He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean it that way, sweetness."

She knew he didn't, and she felt kind of bad for being petty when he was hurting. The man knew how to push her buttons like no other person on Earth. Watching him rubbing his sore ribs brought her to the present. "Derek, you need your meds and rest."

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I need food, maybe a glass or two of wine, and then I can take the meds and go to bed."

"That sounds doable," she replied, folding the paper and putting it in her big bag. Then she looped her arm around his waist. "Come on."

He chuckled. "Angel, I can walk just fine. Besides, I can drive myself if we're not going out to dinner."

"No. I am coming with," she said determinedly. "I'm going to take care of you."

The corner of his lips turned up in just the slightest, winsome smile. "Baby, you don't have to do that."

She could be stubborn, too, when it counted. "Yes, I do." Reaching for his jacket, she started to help him don it.

"Sweetheart, I can put my own coat on."

"Oh, no," she replied. "I am your candy striper slash beck-and-call girl slash personal attendant until you get better."

He arched a brow. "Do I get sponge baths and dressing changes?"

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from smiling with delight. "I will make you dinner, pour you some wine, and get you in your bed. How's that?"

His grin turned positively filthy as she helped him on with his jacket. "Gonna get in my bed with me?"

Mercy, he was frisky for a man who'd just been shot! Her cheeks heated again, and the erotic suggestion made her smile. She glanced up at him through her lashes. "I don't know, lover. You're injured. You need all your capacities if you plan to romp in the sack with this rowdy girl."

A smirk crossed his face as he picked up the pace. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get me home and get me better...fast."

A bit dazed, a bit scared, and a lot excited, Penelope led him out the door. Because for the first time in their relationship... Penelope thought he truly meant what he was saying.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! I am running a wee bit behind...Had family Christmases and such this weekend, so please forgive me...Without further adieu, here comes chapter 2!

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**Chapter 2**

The moment they arrived at Derek's home, Clooney charged toward them, barking with excited glee. He went to Penelope first for a quick pet, and then the retriever leaped at Derek, bumping his ribs.

"Down!" he commanded, snapping far more than he normally would at his beloved pet.

Clooney gave him the saddest brown eyes a dog could give him, which made Derek feel guilty. He ruffled the soft dark gold fur of his dog in a form of apology canines always seemed to understand, and then he opened the door so his pet could do his business outside.

While that was happening, Penelope began buzzing around, tidying and arranging things in his living room and foyer. It wasn't that his home was dirty, per se, but it was messy. He hadn't been home for the past few days while they were on a case, and when he was home, he preferred to have fun. He had precious little time there, so working out and chilling came first.

He started walking gingerly to the couch. Man, his side was starting to ache like a sore tooth. The pain medicine they'd given him at the ER five hours ago must've fully worn off by now.

Penelope had been observing him aptly. She was frowning with concern. "Derek...where's your pain medicine?"

Reaching into his pocket, he removed the bottle of pain reliever and shook it for her. Before she said another word, he popped two of the strong meds in his mouth. On the coffee table, he had a bottle of water. He took a long pull and swallowed them.

"Good boy," she praised, and he smiled at her as she went back to work.

Ugh. She had to stop cleaning. "Baby... you don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do." She swiped up the leftover dishes that he'd had on his coffee table. "You can't do it, so I will."

He eased himself down and winced. He couldn't argue with that. It did need to be done. "Yeah. It's not usually this bad..."

She paused to shoot him a look that said she knew better. And she did. She'd been to his house numerous times, and she knew exactly how bad it could be. "Baby boy, you need a maid."

As he watched his lovely best friend bending to pick up and balance one more cup, he pictured her in a French maid's costume, those long legs of hers encased in wicked thigh highs and her pretty round ass covered in ruffled panties that peeked out from beneath a too-short black silk skirt. His girl would be the fun kind that would love to dress up in costumes. He knew it. Despite the pain he was feeling, he began getting aroused at that thought.

He needed to cool it a bit. Once she'd given Lynch the heave-ho, he'd decided to make his move. He'd been pushing the envelope with her lately, trying to take that step from friends to lovers, but he didn't want to scare her off. Sometimes, she seemed completely willing and receptive to him, and sometimes, she looked like a scared bunny.

The thought of her in Playboy bunny costume, all perky ears and ample curves in a pink silk corset...

"I'll think about it," he said gruffly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against his couch, concentrating on breathing to decrease the pain of his aching side and his aching libido.

"Good," she said, her voice trailing off as she started toward the kitchen. "Cause this is kinda disgusting."

He grunted. It was particularly bad right now, and he couldn't argue it.

"Hot Stuff," she called out from the kitchen. "There's nothing good for food here."

"There's frozen pizza."

He could hear her footsteps approaching, so he opened his eyes.

She was staring at him with those big dark eyes of hers. "Like I said...there's no good food here."

He sighed. "Penelope, I am a bachelor who is rarely home. I don't need to have gourmet food."

"But you need real food to heal," she pleaded and then added, "I don't buy that bachelor excuse, either. Rossi is a bachelor, and he cooks gourmet Italian for himself."

Derek snorted. Rossi was used to having a wife he'd cooked with and had cooked for him for years. Factory-made food was beneath him. Same with Hotch. They were a different breed.

Out of nowhere, two words came to the forefront: _Lucky bastards_.

It must've been the pain playing with his head. He'd never envied men who'd been married before. Especially ones that had loved and lost. He was considered the lucky one, with his carefree, roaming lifestyle.

Still, the older he got, the more he felt like he was missing something. It wasn't the sex. He knew he was good looking. He could have sex—good sex—with a number of women at any moment... Sometimes with two women at a time. As time rolled on, he found he didn't want to have sex with just any _body_ anymore. He wasn't going to lie, it felt good...but...

It would be nice to have someone who cared about him—really cared—and was there for him for more than just a casual fling. Someone he wanted to be with in all capacities, that he cared about, too. Someone for sex, the dinner table, sex, the grocery store, sex, vacation, and sex. Doing those everyday things that he did alone way too much—yes, that included sex—and hated.

Had he mentioned sex?

Anyway, finding that perfect person, the person he wanted to spend his life with, the one he cherished, the future Mrs. Derek Morgan, had not been an easy undertaking. He had inklings in the past—had even found one that was completely right—but they all were missing something...or were taken by someone else.

Ironically, the one he'd considered completely right was in the room with him right now...and she was still completely right.

Too bad she didn't seem to think so.

"If you asked Reid, I bet he'd say the same thing," Derek argued, knowing he sounded a touch defensive. He hated feeling like he was missing out—and knowing deep down inside that he really was.

"Well, I can't help but feel kind of sorry for both you and the boy wonder," she said, as if she were reading his mind. She strolled closer, stood between his splayed knees, and cupped the side of his face in her soft hand. Those beautiful eyes of hers, so clear and seeing so much, studied him. "I think you need someone to take care of you."

If he had a mirror, he'd know he was flushing from sulking like a two-year-old, sucking up the pity. "I'm okay."

She sighed and stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Sometimes I wonder..."

For a second, Derek closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. He turned his face, kissed her palm, and then said, only partially teasing, "Hey... You volunteering for the job?"

His heart was hopeful. He'd been flirting like crazy with Penelope. She had to have an idea of how he really felt by now. His girl wasn't obtuse.

Reaching her other hand up, she cupped his face with both of her hands and leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "I am...for tonight."

In the center of his chest, Derek felt a little pain that had nothing to do with his ribs. He recognized it as disappointment mingled with a heartache that only seemed to happen around his girl.

Yet again, this proved one thing. Not his girl. Not yet. Maybe not ever. No matter how much he wanted it to be.

_Suck it up, Morgan_, he told himself.

He smiled at her as she dropped her hands. "You know, sugar. I think I'm gonna take a nap."

"Oh," she said, her pretty pink lips in a pucker of worry. "Poor baby. You're probably super sore. Come on..."

He stood and walked with her, letting her loop her arm around him. He wanted her closeness. Besides, Garcia just felt good. She was luscious, ripe like a summer peach. She was soft, melting into the hard planes of his body. Making love to her would be bliss. No edges, just curves to cushion and comfort him. Everything about her—her plump, curvy thighs, her tummy, her plush lips—was soft. He looped his arm around her, letting his hand wander on her side.

And his Penelope? She sighed contentedly and leaned more into him, as if his caresses were the most natural thing in the world. Her body knew they belonged together, even if her mind wasn't so sure.

As they reached his room, there were some clothes strewn at the foot of his bed, and his bed wasn't made. He stepped aside and reached to tug his shirt off, adding it to the clutter at the end of the bed. He winced a little, rubbing at the bandaging. It did little to ease the ache.

While he did that, Penelope had fluffed his pillow and had straightened his sheets. His bed looked so much more inviting than it had moments ago, and he actually felt tired.

"Climb in, sweet cheeks," she said, patting the soft surface of his mattress.

As much as he wanted to dive in, he couldn't. He shook his head and reached for his jeans button. "These gotta come off first, angel..."

Derek paused, giving her an opportunity to leave, but she didn't. She stood there, waiting, with a look of infinite patience.

"Well, go on, then," she said, gesturing toward his pants. She huffed a little. "It's no big deal, Hot Stuff. I've seen you in your boxers before—and in just a towel. So..."

He smirked at her and drawled, "Okay...but today, I went commando."

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks grew a delicious shade of pink.

"I'm giving you shit," he said, letting the pants drop to the ground with a whisper of fabric against skin before cautiously crawling into his bed.

"I was tempted to spank you," she said as she straightened his covers over him, "but because you were injured, I didn't."

"Too bad," he answered back, straightening in bed a bit more. "I like a good spanking."

She laughed. "Well, lover... Dominatrix, I am not."

For a moment, his dirty mind pictured his girl in black leather, carrying a little whip, bright red lips and a naughty expression on her face. _Oh yeah...hurts so gooood._..

Winking at her, he asked with a lustful smirk and an eyebrow wiggle, "Are you sure? Could be fun..."

"You're crazy," she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, her golden blond hair brushing over his skin like soft feathers teasing and taunting him. Before she pulled away, he drank in her beauty—her flushed cheeks, her delicious lips, even the way her delicate lashes closed behind her glasses as she chastely kissed him.

He could tell she was about to leave the room, and he didn't want that. At that moment, he couldn't bear it. He didn't want to be alone. Not now. Not again. Not ever.

"Climb in with me," he said, patting the side of his bed next to him.

"Why?"

It was such a loaded question for one word, one that he could answer a million ways. _Because I need you; you're the only person I have ever really needed. Because I want your warmth, to warm my body, my heart, my soul. Because you ease my pain like no other person on this __Earth._

_Because I love you, and you're so much more than just my best friend._

Instead, he said, "I sleep better when someone is nearby, and I need my sleep to get better. You want me to get better, right?"

Rolling her eyes, she murmured, "Yes, I do."

And then she slid in between the covers next to him.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! This has become sort of my New Year's story. I'm anticipating about four more chapters. I hope you like it!

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**Chapter 3**

Penelope hunkered in near her best friend in his bed, on top of the covers, not quite touching him. She was a little nervous about it. Not about him doing anything—he was too hurt, and really, deep down, she wouldn't mind if he did something—but because he was injured. She didn't want to make him feel worse than he already did.

"Come closer," he said, his low voice a delicious purr that sent tingles down her spine. He had the most luscious voice, like gravel on velvet, wrapped in honey, the Sultan of Suave. He could give any order to her in that tone, and she'd dutifully obey it like any good little concubine would.

Hesitantly, she scootched near him, almost touching. She had a spot on his shoulder that she used frequently for late-night movies and for general feel-good cuddling and hugging. Gingerly, she laid her head on the spot.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, holding her head mostly aloft.

"Hell, no." He'd just taken the pain pills ten minutes ago, and already his voice sounded a little different, a little huskier and thicker.

"Hot Stuff, I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Don't be silly."

"I don't want to—oh!"

Before she could say anything more, he reached his arm up and out of the covers and pulled her so that she was plastered against his comforter-wrapped side. She could feel the warmth from his big body, still very firm and strong, even with that extra layer in between them.

Giving in to the press of his sculpted arm, she lay her head in her spot and began to melt into him. He was so comfy. It didn't make sense that a man so hard and muscular could be so cuddly. Where her softness was, his was strength. His body supported hers, solid, warm, and heavy...welcoming.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his rich voice vibrating in his chest under her ear.

Sighing, she put her hand over his heart and looped her leg over his knee. "Yes. And I should be asking you that since you're the hurt one."

"Oh, sugar. I am feeling sooo much better now," he replied, glancing at her. His eyes were glassy, and his smile was crooked. The pain medicine was now in full effect, and he looked a bit...loopy.

She snickered. "Derek...do you feel drunk?"

He paused and cocked his head to the side, as if he had to think about it. "Yeah," he answered after an inordinately long amount of time. "I think I do."

"Good grief," she said. "What medicine did they give you?"

He smiled wickedly. "I don't know for sure...but I know it should be locked up from thugs. They'd try to sell this shit!"

She giggled and rose on her elbow to look at the bottle on the nightstand. "Oh. Oh, that is a strong one, indeed. I got that one after I was shot. Completely knocked me out."

"Like I said." He tugged her into his arms a little more tightly, making her fall partially on top of him. "I am feeling no pain."

"Good!" she said cheerfully.

"Except for one place."

She paused and nearly asked, _Where?_, before his expression and common sense hit her.

"Wanna help me with that, Nurse Penelope?"

The hot and lusty look on his face, needy and dirty, was downright flattering, to say the least, as was a hard, large—_holy __crap!_ large!—protuberance against her stomach. However, in a drug-induced state, probably any woman in his bed would do. Derek was a red-blooded male with red-blooded-male needs. She wasn't going to think she was anything special to him at that moment.

Damn it.

"Sorry, angelfish," she murmured as she slid off of him, "but you would regret any such actions in the morning."

"I doubt that."

She had to laugh, he sounded so determined. Nevertheless, the sound of determination was mingled with a slight drunken slur.

"Trust me, babykins," she cajoled sweetly, kissing his cheek. "Rest, get better, and if you still feel that way when you are all healed, we'll talk again."

He held her tight again, making her look at him. "I'm holding you to that, P."

"Okay, okay," she answered, feeling that thrill—and that uneasiness—yet again. She patted him. "Rest."

He grunted, and she lay on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath...and calm her beating heart. What if... What if...

She couldn't think about that now. She had nurse duties to attend to.

She glanced up at him and saw that he had his eyes closed, a soft smile of true contentment on his gorgeous face. She didn't get to be this close to him very often, and now that she was, she decided to take advantage of it and really study him.

His jaw, usually clean except for his expertly shaven goatee, had the dark shadow of whiskers peering out from under his skin. Her fingers itched to see if he would feel sandpaper rough, and if the longer, trimmed hairs would be coarse to the touch. The dimples in his cheeks, less pronounced than usual when he was grinning cheekily, led to his straight, fine nose. The dark shadow of his lashes rested on his cheeks, and his usually active eyebrows were at rest, in a placid expression of near serenity. He was so beautiful, he took her breath away. He looked like an angel, like what Psyche must've seen when she glanced at the sleeping Cupid.

Those gorgeous eyes opened, and he smiled at her. "What are you looking at?"

"You," she answered honestly. "You, my love, are stunning."

He brushed a wayward curl away from her face. "As are you."

"No, Cupid," she said, touching the tip of his patrician nose, "you are the breathtaking one in our wondrous duo."

"You shortchange yourself, momma," he answered, running his hand down her side. "A blind man could see your attributes, they're so obvious."

"Now who is being the silly one?"

"You are," he argued.

"I am not," she said.

"Yessss, you are," he slurred, hissing like a punch-drunk snake, opening his glassy eyes to stare at her. "You are all kinds of gorgeoush, Baby Girl."

Biting her lips to hold back a chuckle, she nodded. "Okay. I believe you. Rest."

"No!" he said as quickly as he could. "No, ma'am. You gotta hear thish."

She raised her self up to calm him down. "Derek, I'm—"

"You got a pretty face, a damn beauty-full face, with sexy lips that say the naughtiest damn things," he said, his words throaty and thick as he held her gaze. "Fuck, woman, that mouth of yoursh...red and saucy... It's made for sinning. You know that, right?"

Penelope stared at him. My...this was flattering. She'd always had a crush on him; maybe that crush was a little bit returned?

"I love wash...watching your lips. Talking, laughing, eating..." He paused and focused directly on her mouth. "Baby...you look goooood with shomething in your mouth."

Penelope felt her cheeks heating with a blush. Good God... She wasn't going to be able to face him tomorrow at this rate! She couldn't let him continue; she had to stop this before they embarrassed each other.

"Okay, handsome, I get it," she placated softly, patting his chest with her hand as she lay back in her spot. "I'm irresistible. Thank you."

"And that thick body of yoursh," he continued, like she hadn't even spoken. "I like my girlsh with meat."

That made her look up at him in disbelief. He'd always dated stick-thin women in the past, ones that could grace a catwalk. Why would he lie in a drug-induced stupor?

But his eyes were closed, and he was smiling and even sweating a little. She glanced down the blanket, and the mound under the blanket hadn't recessed in the slightest. In fact...it seemed to have grown. Apparently, he was not lying, after all.

His guttural voice sounded both content and lascivious. "Curvy assh, shoft tits, chubby thighs that cradle a man... Mmm, hell, yeah... That'sh _my_ kind of girl..."

Before she could respond, she was suddenly shocked by his hand clapping onto her ass. He gave it a jiggle and a pat, that dirty, dirty smile still on his face. He didn't release her cheek, either, not even after the smile left his face, a soft snore taking its place instead.

Penelope lay stock still next to him, his hand on her bottom holding her close. She had a lot of thinking to do, and this seemed to be the perfect spot for it.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. I am really glad everyone is liking this so far...It's so much fun!

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**Chapter 4**

Derek woke to the smell of cinnamon and the sound of something sizzling. He was a bit groggy, like he'd slept far too long. Rolling over onto his side, he winced from soreness, and then he slowly opened his eyes and glanced at his alarm clock. It was seven in the morning.

"Damn."

He'd slept over twelve hours. Derek rarely ever slept more than five hours, and it was a fight to get that much sleep. He had been worn out, but he knew it was the combination of medication and the warmth of a delicious female body that had really lulled him to sleep.

He'd bet a million bucks that the lovely woman who had slept with him was in his kitchen right now. Question was...when had she gotten up?

Immediately, he looked at the pillow next to his. There was an indentation and a couple of long, silky blonde hairs on it, which proved to him that Penelope had spent the night. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Shit. The first time he gets his girl in his bed, and he barely remembered it. Damn pain pills.

Last evening's conversation dawned on him, and he smiled. It was almost the New Year, and he couldn't think of a better way to have the New Year start than to clear the air between them and let what was meant to be happen between them finally happen. It took a little bit of courage from an unlikely source, but he'd finally let loose and told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't look at her like just a friend. She was his type, and she had the right to know it. The woman turned him on like no other person on Earth. Everything about her was just right in his book. She was perfect for him. She just had to realize it, and realize he was perfect for her in return.

They were on the right course. He thought about the reaction she'd had to him last night. She'd looked a little embarrassed, but she hadn't left. He figured that was a good sign. If she'd been mortified by his attraction—and the raging hard on he'd had—she would've gotten out of his bed and run for the hills. Instead, he remembered her snuggling close to him, her thigh brushing against his and her arm curled around his side, the whole night.

It had been a very good night. Now to capitalize on it this morning... and later tonight, if all went well.

Grinning to himself, he realized he needed to take a quick shower and get his mind out of the gutter before he went downstairs and checked on how his beautiful girl was feeling this morning.

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Penelope was beyond nervous. While Derek had slept like a sweetly snoring baby, she'd tossed and turned a great deal of the night. She'd finally gotten up and gone shopping to make him the perfect breakfast and to holiday up his house. It was just two days before New Year's, and he had nothing merry about at all. While she was out, she'd tried to decipher whether or not what she was feeling was totally real. There was so much at stake—either way the ball bounced.

If the proverbial ball of love landed in the _Baby-quit-dreaming-we're-just-friends_ court it had been oddly planted in for the past eight years, she had to go back to the way things were: loving him from afar with a fierce passion that burned her soul. She'd accepted her role as best friend/biggest fan years ago. Going back to that wouldn't be so bad...would it?

If that fickle ball landed in the _I-want-you-for-real-hubba-hubba_ court, then she had to deal with what it was like to win the love lottery and finally get everything she'd ever dreamed of. Even more than what she had dared to hope for in her life.

She paused in pouring maple syrup. The second option sounded so uberly much better.

Suddenly, a kiss landed smack on her cheek. She squealed and turned to face the handsome man she'd been pondering for hours now, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Morning, princess," he said with a grin.

"Good morning," she answered, and then turned back to the French toast.

Frack. She was so nervous, she forgot her usual greeting, that she was going to show him a good morning. She hadn't given him her usual smile, either. It was stilted, a bit forced, like she was nervous...a touch apprehensive.

That only made sense. She was nervous, so...

"I...uh..." She turned to continue working on the French toast so that she could focus somewhere other than his gorgeous, honey brown eyes with the golden flecks and perfectly curved lashes and talk. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon."

He reached for a grape that was sitting on the plate and popped it in his mouth. "I don't usually sleep over twelve hours, Baby Girl."

She glanced back at him, and then she sighed and laughed. "You don't, do you?"

"Nope. I slept like a baby," he replied and then winked at her. "Must've been the company I kept."

Ugh. That wink made her doubt herself again. He was joking just like nothing had really happened. Did nothing really happen? Was all the sweetness and emotion she felt just on her behalf? Was it just smoke and mirrors to make her feel better about herself, because she'd been being a realist?

She bit her bottom lip. That would be something he'd do. Sure, he had been inappropriate in his methods, but...

Trying to be light, she snickered, picking up the plates. "Yes. Ol' Mr. Narcotic did the trick."

"That didn't help. I'm sorry about that, P," he said with a slight blush on his high cheekbones. "I really am a lightweight when it comes to drugs and an empty stomach. When I blew my knee out in college, I could barely take Tylenol without dancing on the ceiling. I'd rather suffer than be loopy."

Well. That explained it, didn't it? Her stomach fell a little with disappointment, but she sucked it up. She was used to that feeling when it came to really, really great guys. They didn't pan out...or they shot her.

"You were fine," she answered, shaking her macabre feelings and patting his arm reassuredly. "You didn't act too terrible...or too terribly inappropriate."

He reached for one of the plates. "Oh, come on, peaches. Yes, I did."

"I got this," she said, sidestepping him easily and ignoring his words. "You are still injured."

"Baby, I can carry a plate."

"Just sit," she ordered, pointing to his chair and placing his plate in front of him. "Oh. And there are two pills there. Take them, please, so you're not _suffering_."

He chuckled. "Honey, I'm not-"

"Oh! The juice!" She'd forgotten the orange juice bottle! He was going to take the medicine and have nothing to drink. That was unacceptable.

As she went quickly back into the kitchen, she heard him give a sigh of defeat. When she came back, he'd already he sat down, and she placed the plate of French toast, bacon, and grapes in front of him. The pills were missing and so was half of the fresh-squeezed orange juice she'd made. Good. She didn't want him to feel unwilling to take the pills, even if he did act a little...randy when he took them.

"When did you go shopping?" he asked.

She grinned, taking a seat near him and putting her napkin on her lap. It was a gold, sparkling, Christmassy-looking cloth napkin. "How did you know I shopped?"

"I don't think I had any of those ingredients in my fridge," he said, putting his napkin on his lap and then pointed to the center of his table, "but I am damn sure I didn't have a poinsettia."

"I knew there was a reason you were such an astute detective." She winked at him teasingly. "I didn't see anything festive in here, and I figured you needed something festive for the holidays, my New Year's baby boy, since you are laid up."

"It's nice," he said honestly. "Thank you, my Christmas angel."

She blushed with pleasure at the praise. She loved to please him, just like he loved to please her. They did sweet little things for each other all the time, picking up extra coffee from the coffee shop, hugs and kisses that made them both smile. It made them so perfect for each other.

Still...that didn't mean perfect lovers. Could be just perfect friends, and be happy...

Oh, sweet circuits, she hated feeling wishy-washy! She wish he'd just sweep her away, declare he was in love with her, and be done with it!

Or not...and be done with it, too.

Second thought, wishy-washy wasn't sooo bad. At least this way, she could keep her active fantasy life.

"Eat," she said, gesturing to his plate. "Your food is getting cold."

"You, too, sweetheart," he answered, giving her a wolf-like grin. "You know how I like to watch you eat."

Penelope felt her stomach knot and a tingle of anticipation, but she brushed it away. He'd just taken medicine on an empty stomach, like he'd had last night. It didn't take long to work on him and make him...silly.

And horny. God, the man got horny quickly!

Clearing her throat, she picked up her fork and speared a piece of toast. "Bon appetite."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I_ love_ this big, ol' huge chapter...I hope you love it, too...Let me know what you think! Love, Kricket

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**Chapter 5**

Derek and Penelope were enjoying their breakfast together, chatting and laughing about everything that could be imagined, like the best friends that they were. Conversation started with work, in particular the last case they'd worked and how he'd gotten shot.

"I'm kinda embarrassed about it," Derek said, shrugging as he cut a piece of toast. "It was a fool move on my behalf. Next time, I won't—"

"Angel boy, please." Penelope shuddered visibly. "I don't want to think about another time."

Warmth spread in his chest and came out as a soft smile as Derek reached for her hand. He squeezed it gently. "Baby...I'm okay. You can't get rid of your man so easily."

Penelope smiled in return. "Well, I'd rather talk about something more pleasant. Like my new lipstick I bought. It's pinkle."

He chuckled and popped a piece of toast in his mouth. "_Pinkle?_"

"Mmm hmm," she answered, her eyes twinkling with merriment. "It's purplish pink. Goes great with the new bag I got, and the new shoes."

"I'm sure it's gorgeous," he replied before shooting her a lusty look and continuing, "Although those lips of yours can make anything look good."

"Flatterer," she answered, taking a bite of her toast herself.

A drop of syrup landed on the perfect cupid's bow of her upper lip; her sexy little pink tongue sneaked out, and she licked the syrup away. He thought of doing that himself, reaching for her arms and tugging her onto his lap, tasting her mouth that was sure to be as sweet as that cinnamon syrup...

_Slow down, Morgan. Slow down_...

Derek licked his own lips, chewing a bite of the French toast with satisfaction. His Baby Girl was a damn good cook, although he usually didn't want to know what was in it. Her food was usually some sort of tofu-based anti-food that he rushed past in the grocery store without a second look. This toast was excellent—perfectly spiced, savory, and not too sweet, and the cinnamon syrup was the perfect accent.

"This is great," he said honestly. "My compliments to the sexy little chef."

Her eyes lit up with happiness. "Thank you. This is my secret recipe. I make it for all my guests."

For a second, Derek's heart plummeted. He thought of other lucky men, waking up in her purple palace she called an apartment after a night of wild sex, and getting this delicious treat. It bothered him far more than he wanted to admit. He'd learned to hold back his jealousy of Lynch—a true non-threat, he'd been _that_ wrong for Penelope—enough to not storm out of a room when his name was mentioned, but any other man—

"JJ and Henry thought it was the best French toast they'd ever had," she continued with a vain little grin at her cooking prowess.

Derek half-snorted, half-chuckled at his own idiocy. Damn, he had it bad! He'd been about to take out an imaginary man in his head.

She leaned forward, a wicked little smile curving her gorgeous lips. "Wanna know the secret, handsome?"

He'd never wanted to know anything so badly in his life. He stared at those lips again, and he answered throatily, "Oh, hell, yeah."

* * *

"A dash of allspice," Penelope replied. She was so proud of her winning French toast. She was nearly giddy with excitement. Mock eggs and gluten free bread, and he still loved it.

Derek was staring at her after she'd told her secret, but then he seemed to snap out of it. "I'll have to remember that."

She smiled and took a sip of her coffee while he picked up a strip of fried pork fat and took a healthy bite of it. Just as she'd expected, his smile grew as he chewed the animal protein. Like most of his gender, Derek adored his red meat. It gave her the heebie jeebies now, but he liked it.

"I really must rate," Derek said with a teasing grin. "I can't believe you cooked bacon."

"Just because I am vegetarian and friend to feathers, fins, and feedstock does not mean I will deny you the pleasures of eating bacon," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Pleasures?" he replied. He cocked a brow at her. "That didn't sound very animal-friendly, if you ask me..."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't always vegetarian. I was a carnivore at one time, just like you."

"Oh, no. I'm an _omnivore_, baby," he said with a sloe-eyed grin. "I'm even part cannibal..."

The deliciously lewd thinking behind that statement made the blood in her body rush to recently forgotten areas. The man had the longest tongue she'd ever seen, and...

_Not now, Garcie!_

She looked up at him, unable to control the flush that overtook her cheeks. She couldn't help but think that the expression on his face said, _Yes, Garcie. Yes, indeedy..._

Those pain pills must be working.

_Think nurse-like._

A picture of herself in a little white costume, with a jaunty little cap perched on her fluffy curls and—

_Not naughty nurse-__like; just__ nurse-like!_

"Umm...you took a shower. Did you take your bandages off? Do you need your ribs rewrapped?" she babbled quickly.

"Yeah, I do," he said, putting his fork down and leaning close to her. "Gonna take care of me, Nurse Penelope?"

Penelope swallowed hard. "Yup. Let's go."

Penelope followed Derek a few moments later as he strolled to his bedroom. Derek was wearing jeans slung low on his hips, and his black boxers were sticking up just above the band, as was the latest fashion. He had a wonderful walk, with a slight roll to his lean hips, like cowboys of old.

There was a new sheriff in town. Sheriff Derek...of the town of Pleasureville.

Just before he entered his room, he pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his long, lean back muscles, and then turned to face her.

She'd seen that chest of his so many times, and every damn time, it knocked her stupid. Goodness, he was magnificent when he was shirtless. His muscles worked under his taut skin with animal grace and beauty at his every movement. He was a luscious, sculpted, drool-worthy work of art. A second later, she had to swallow. Sure enough, she was drooling.

"I got my go bag over there by you," he said, pointing to a chair. "It has my dressing change material in there. Can you grab it?"

Taking the excuse to tear her eyes away from him, she quickly grabbed his go bag and put it on the bed. Derek unzipped it and removed some rolls of gauze, liniment, and surgical tape. All the things to make him better.

Too bad that gauze was useless for her heart. _He's teasing_, she kept reminding herself, but her heart kept foolishly hoping. Now, she could wrap it like a fracking mummy, and it wasn't going to make her feel any better when this was all done and over with.

"You ready?" he asked, his brow raised in question.

Her big, sherry brown eyes were wider than her turquoise frames on her glasses. "Are _you_ ready?"

"Always," he began with a slow grin. "Now, you want to do this standing or what?"

Her heart raced as she gaped at him."D-Do what?"

His grin turned into a beam. "My bandages, honey."

She flushed a guilty scarlet, caught daydreaming about other things, but she reverted to a businesslike fashion. She had a job to do. "Maybe I should sit, and you can come over, and then your ribs will be at my eye level?"

He gestured to his bed. "Take a seat."

Penelope padded on her feet across the room for the second time. His bed was high, cushy, and very comfortable. It seemed a travesty to her, considering that she knew he rarely ever slept decently in that bed. She sank a little lower into the mattress and then perched herself on the side as much as she could.

Derek stood in front of her, the button of his jeans level with her throat. "How is this?"

She reached out and realized he was too far away. Shaking her head, she parted her legs, and she watched as he stepped forward farther into the vee her thighs had created. The hard muscles of his outer thighs pressed against her soft inner thighs, the strength evident even through the layer of denim he was wearing and her thin tights she had on.

Mesmerized by the solid maleness of him, she drew her gaze slowly up his thighs to his lean, masculine hips, to the sizable, heavy-looking pouch behind his fly. He was only inches away, waiting for her to touch him. God help her, her fingertips tingled. They burned with the need to touch him, to make sure such perfection was real. She took a shuddering breath through her nose, trying to slow the panting she hadn't realized she was doing.

"Am I close enough?" he said, his low, decadent voice sending a shivering fall of goose pimples down her back and arms. She dragged her eyes up, past the low-slung fastening of his jeans, past the elastic band of his boxer briefs, past his navel.

Even the inward curving indentation of his belly button was perfect.

"Yes," she answered, forcing herself to look up at his face. She needed to get lust off the plate and work on the docket. She swallowed hard, girded herself for battle, and reached for the gauze in a more businesslike fashion. "Time to wrap you."

"Uh, sugar?" he said. When she looked up again, a ripple of amusement flickered in his eyes. "I think you need to use the liniment first."

She nodded and put aside the partially unwrapped gauze. "Oh. Okay."

The ointment was thick, creamy white, and felt oily to her fingertips. It smelled a touch like menthol, which was a sharp contrast in comparison to Derek's usual spicy, clean scent. She put a small pile from the jar in the center of her palms and rubbed her hands together, warming the greasy goo. Placing a hand on both sides of his hard abdomen, she began to stroke him lightly, coating his skin.

She made her way to his side where the bruising was. The color was a dark purple and black, no signs of fading, and there were multiple dots around it, each as bruised as the larger, center bruise.

"Shotgun," he murmured. "Sprays pellets."

Her heart ached, and she shivered with fear at how dangerous his job was. Anger at the bullet-_resistant_ vest he wore—still a total misnomer!—rose again inside of her. She touched them lightly, each one of them, making deliberate and delicate contact with them with healing salve, before she continued on in her ministrations.

As nurse-like as she was being, it was impossible not to adore the man she was touching. If it were possible to believe, he felt better than he looked. His stomach was firm with very little resilience or give, and his skin felt like the softest leather she'd ever touched. Not quite as smooth as her own baby softness, but far less coarse than she'd expected. The slight hairs on his upper stomach were softer, too, and a bit straighter than the few hairs than the hairs that bisected his lower abs. It made her wonder how his other, crisper, curlier hairs would feel.

She stroked him idly, her pulse rate and her breathing quickened as she worked her fingers over the muscles. The warmth of his skin—how did a half naked man stay so warm in a chilly room?—matched the warmth in her cheeks and the warmth growing between her legs. Her spread thighs were trembling, as were her fingers, and she willed them to be still.

"I wish you could touch me forever, Baby Girl."

She looked up at him, meeting his smoldering gaze and feeling her breath catch in her throat. "I wish I could, too," she answered honestly before tearing her gaze away from his eyes back to his equally arresting abdomen. "Alas...I cannot."

He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "Why not?"

She forced a wry grin. "Because I don't think your future wife would appreciate me touching you all the time."

"What if you were my future wife?" he asked softly. "Would you mind?"

"Another woman touching you?" she countered with a surprised scowl. "Yes, I would mind very much, thank you!"

"Not another woman." He gave a low chuckle and squeezed her cheek before releasing it. "You."

Penelope's heart held in her chest with a burst of excitement, but then she looked down before he could see the unwanted tears in her eyes. Oh, how she wished it were true, but she knew it was because of the narcotics he was taking. "You're silly."

"I'm not silly," he answered, stepping even closer so that her center was pressed against him. "I want you. You're perfect for me."

_Oh, myyyy_... He was being very forward...as were other parts of his body. That was hard to ignore. Goodness... It was huge, and it was at eye level, practically demanding attention.

"Derek, it's the medicine talking," she said, reaching for the gauze and wrapping him quickly and efficiently. "If you weren't tipsy, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you..."

"Angel—"

"Or at least I'd try!" she added with a wicked giggle of her own. She'd been a good girl; she deserved one lapse in judgment!

"Penelope—"

"Oh, calm down, sugar. You probably won't even remember any of this later," she replied, reaching for the tape and securing her bandaging.

"Garcia," he said, holding her wrist before she could put on the last piece of tape.

She watched as he reached into the little pocket of his jeans. He opened his hand and revealed two pills sitting in his palm, staring up at her.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock and surprise.

He was grinning brilliantly at her. "It wasn't the medicine talking."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews...I love this chapter, too...Just one naughty little epilogue left, if you think it needs it! (I do!)...Let me know!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_Holy cow_, Penelope thought, her mind going a million directions at once. _This cannot be happening._

She continued staring at him, like a deer blinded by a floodlight, unable to speak. Her mouth was still in an _O_ of shock and awe, like she'd been firebombed.

_Holy cow, _she thought again, but then changed her mind. That was far too mild. _Holy_ freaking _cow_!

Derek, mindbogglingly handsome, indescribably sexy, so damn delicious you could eat him with a _spoon_, Morgan had just said wonderful things. Things she'd always dreamed he'd say—in her wickedest dreams only bad, bad girls had. Things every girl aged 18-88 in their right mind would want to hear him say.

And he'd said them to her.

_I want you. You're perfect for me. _He'd even talked about _marriage_, for heaven's sake!

She should believe him. If anyone knew what perfection was, it would be her Hot Stuff, the living epitome of the word. Yet, it seemed so unbelievable that someone so perfect would find her perfect for himself, or that he'd want her—_really_ want her.

It was easier to believe the teasing.

It wasn't that she lacked self-esteem, truly. She knew she was spectacular, and sexy, and unique, and smart, and funny. She knew she had it going on in spades, but...there was something about him. Something about being near perfection personified that put a girl in her place.

It wasn't just his looks, either, although that was definitely something to write home about. He was heroic, putting himself out there for people he didn't even know. He had a good mind and a heart that outshone his physical beauty. He had a twisted, goodhearted sense of humor, could laugh at himself and make you laugh, too. He was an incredible friend who would give the shirt off his back if you needed one.

And he was good to his mother.

No doubt about it, Derek was the full package. Penelope truly loved him, and she wanted the best for him, as all good friends want for their best friends.

The only question remaining: Was she the best for him?

"Penelope...Baby Girl?"

Those three simple words, names she'd heard a million times from him, broke her out of her reverie. As she looked at him, she saw the brilliant smile he still wore, along with a look of hopeful expectancy. He was waiting for a response from her...anxiously waiting. Yet, in his expression, there was something else, the slight flickering of insecurity, like she would reject him.

At that moment, she realized he was taking as big of a risk as she was, putting his heart out there and hoping that she would pick it up and give it a home. That he longed for this as much as she did...maybe even more.

So was she the best for him? According to the look on his gorgeous face, yes. He'd never lied to her before—why shouldn't she believe him now...and believe in herself, too?

Whatever fears and doubts she had were whisked away, and she slowly stood, letting her fingers trail up the hard sections of his abdomen, over the chiseled swells of his pecs, to loop over his shoulders in a very _un_friend-like, very _girl_friend-like move.

As she made that move, the look of pure, unadulterated pleasure that overtook his countenance simply made her decade. There was no mistaking that joy, and being the one that put it there was a heady feeling in and of itself.

"Baby Boy?" she purred in the sexiest voice she could imagine.

"Hmm?" he responded, looping his arms lightly around her waist in an age-old boyfriend gesture that gave her sweet, sweet thrills down her spine.

"Can I ask you to do something?"

"Anything," he growled roughly in a tone that said he meant that word implicitly.

"Will you pinch me?" She was certain her smile was as brilliant as his, as she said, "Because if I am this happy, I have to be dreaming."

"Oh, angel, this _is_ a dream." Derek folded her closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. "One that is about to come true for both of us..."

* * *

There'd been moments Derek had anticipated in his life, like the championship football game in college, high school graduation day, the day he'd created his first accurate profile. Nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to this. Eight years of longing was about to come together in one incredible moment in time...and he had a feeling it was going to be so _damn_ good.

For a moment, he looked at her full lips, soft and rosy pink, without lipstick this morning. She didn't need lipstick, pinkle or any other color; her mouth was gorgeous without any adornment. Her flushed cheeks, heated to the backs of his fingers, was just a few shades darker than her ivory skin. But the look in her sherry-colored eyes, the anticipation that matched his, was his undoing.

Derek cupped the back of her head in his hand as he nestled her closer to his body, and he lowered his mouth to hers, and the world positively stood still in an explosion of sensation. Blood rushed through his body as he took in the texture of her lips, the pillowy softness that yielded to the pressure his exerted. He wasn't being gentle in the slightest bit; he needed this more than he needed to breathe.

She took in a slight, staccato breath that whispered against his cheek, and then she opened her mouth for more exploration. He held her closer, sliding his tongue in to taste the honeyed sweetness of her. She was delicious, sweet, delicately flavored of cinnamon and Penelope, and he consumed her.

"Damn, baby," he guttered as he clutched her closer, devouring her mouth. The breathless little moans she emitted spurred him on, as well as her arms clutching him. He kissed her long and hard and hungry with everything he had inside his soul.

"Derek...Derek..." she murmured between kisses as he began to explore other angles, deepening the kiss.

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, and to accentuate his words, he nipped lightly, teasingly, at her bottom lip.

With a wordless cry, she arched against him, cupping his head in her hands and dragging him down for more kisses, more of everything. She gave as good as she got, devouring him as he had devoured her, proving yet again how perfect she was for him.

The blood rushing in his body pooled completely in his groin, and the almost pleasurable ache that had been there before was now the throbbing, physical proof of his need. The play they'd always had together had been highly sexual; it was only natural that once they started on this path, they'd go all the way. As far as he was concerned, they needed to take this where nature led them...

The sooner, the better.

Continuing to trade scorching kisses, he reached his hands down to her pert, rounded ass and lifted her easily, intending on carrying her into the bed. He'd gotten her two feet off the ground, when a very sharp ache shot in his side. He grunted and put her back down.

Penelope opened her eyes slowly, the cloudiness of passion in her gaze. "Derek? What—" That cloudiness evaporated as her memory came back. "Oh, angelfish! Your side!"

He smiled at her, but winced as the pain shot through him again. "I kinda got carried away."

"I'm the one that was being carried, Hot Stuff," she said, concern knitting her brow, "but I think I should've been carrying you!"

Immediately, Penelope began examining his bandaging again and adjusting them.

He chuckled. "Relax...I'm okay, sweetheart."

"Let's get you into bed," she ordered.

He gave her what he hoped was a positively lewd smile. He wasn't done yet. Hell, no. Once the pain went away, he'd be up and at 'em...

"Oh, no, mister," she argued, her hands on her hips in a stance of solid resistance. "No more funny business until your ribs are healed, and this time, I am going to watch you take those pain pills."

She took the two pills off his nightstand and handed them to him.

He arched a brow at her in defiance. "Only if you climb in here with me again, Nurse Penelope, and give me a nap-time kiss."

She smiled. "I can do that."

"Good." He took the pills and then took a healthy sip of water. "Because you know what I heard?"

She climbed in next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "What's that, buttercup?"

He nuzzled into her hair, breathing the sweet, familiar peachy scent of her he'd always loved. "Nothing heals a man faster than the love of a good woman."

She looked at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Does it work even if this good woman is kinda naughty sometimes?"

To accentuate her words, she trailed teasing fingers up his abdomen, making the muscles leap to attention.

His lips curled in a very pleased half-smile. "Oh, sweetheart. That's what makes you so damn good in the first place."

"Well then." She snuggled close to him. "With as much as I love you, you should be ship-shape in no time."

He sat up a little more so he could kiss the top of her head and laid back down completely, only grunting slightly with the movement. "I'm counting on it, Baby Girl."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Well, we have reached the end of another story! I hope you all love this big ol' epilogue as much as I loved writing it (Come on...They were due, people! LOL)...Next story should be coming out very soon...As always, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows. It makes the writing experience really, really worthwhile!... All my love, Kricket

Ps. Dedicated to KoteDiM. Happy birthday!

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**Chapter 7**-The Epilogue Chapter

_Warning: Sexual Content Ahead_

_One week later..._

A knock on the door at the Morgan abode caused Derek to practically fly down the stairs to answer the door. He even leaped over Clooney. He couldn't wait to let the lovely woman he knew was coming over into his home...and back into his bed.

He smiled to himself at his thinking. For the past week, Penelope would come over everyday, and they would have a nice dinner together, something quick they whipped up together or something one of them had made in advance. Immediately after dinner, they'd retire to his bedroom. Earlier and earlier, they'd make their way into his bedroom.

While in the room, Penelope laid in his arms, in his bed, watching football or some screwball comedy. She would lie in his favorite spot for her, the spot that had her name on it on his shoulder on his non-injured side. They'd watch TV, laugh, talk about their day, affirming what they had always had with each other while falling more and more in love. They'd even watched the ball drop on New Year's in bed together.

And they'd kiss. They'd kiss over and over, hot and horny, drinking from each other and groping like teenagers through their clothes until he'd started removing his shirt before he hopped into bed. These kisses grew in intensity and made him forget himself until he moved the wrong way and was reminded that yes, he had been shot.

Then he needed a shower, a hot one to loosen the muscles on his side and a cold one for his groin.

The knocking on the door became more prevalent. He almost chuckled. Penelope would've stopped him so she could answer the door if she'd already been there. Normally, he would've done it himself, but Penelope insisted on doing everything for him around the house that might cause him strain. Although he was back at work and had been back since the second day of his injury, she worried about him, and fussed over him, and babied him...and he loved it. When he'd been ill or injured in the past, he'd had to suck it up and do everything by himself. This time, he counted himself so lucky to have someone he loved caring for him.

Her touch and caring had worked magic on him. He'd rolled over this morning, and he hadn't felt a single twinge of pain. In fact, he'd worked out before he'd left work, the first time he'd worked out since he'd been injured. He was a healed man, and he had Nurse Penelope to thank for that.

This time, this evening, when they kissed, nothing was going to stop him from going where this was leading. His groin throbbed heavily, and he wondered if maybe they could skip dinner? He glanced at his watch—it was about six o'clock.

Close enough to bedtime.

Derek opened the door, the smile on his face genuine and welcoming. "Hi, Baby...Girl..."

He was literally knocked speechless.

Standing in his door way was a vision in white, from the little nurse's cap perched on the top of her head to the white patent leather stilettos grounded to the floor. She was barely dressed in a decadently tight uniform that buttoned down the front, stressing those buttons over her overflowing bosom to the tops of her curvacious plump thighs just barely visible over the white silk thigh-high stockings she wore.

The smile left his face, and he was sputtering as he took in his naughty nurse. Every inch of her made every inch of him alive and ticking.

Smiling was not an issue for her. Her ruby red-painted lips were curved in a delicious-looking grin as she asked, "Ready for your sponge bath, Mr. Morgan?"

Derek took a deep breath in for fortitude. His girl had obviously come ready to play, and he was going to need all the fortitude he could get.

That thought made him smile. He was one very, _very_ lucky man.

Opening the door wider, he ushered her in. "Sweetheart, with you dressed like that, I'll be your best, most willing, and only patient."

* * *

Penelope was grinning more internally than she was externally. The costume had paid off! After hearing that Derek had decided to work out, she'd stopped at the costume shop and picked up the naughty nurse costume that she'd been thinking about to tease her hot, soon-to-be lover into action. She'd known after spending time with him daily that he was feeling better, but this seemed to be the sign to make her move.

It was a move she desperately needed to make.

Nightly, she'd leave his house, weak-kneed and aching for more from his kisses. Sometimes, he'd even made her come just from kissing, but it wasn't enough. She needed him, and she knew he needed her, too. There was no denying his arousal. She'd feel it, pressing against her in desperation, hard and hot and heavy and humongous.

Oh, sweet stars, she wanted him! She wanted him so desperately, she could feel the wetness of her own arousal on her upper thighs. Time to get what they both wanted.

He shut the door, and she turned slightly to face him. "Are you hungry? What should we—"

For an answer, Derek reached a hand behind her neck and pulled her into his arms. He devoured her mouth, kissing her long and hard, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist and began kisses down her throat.

Penelope looped her arms around his neck, and his mouth returned to hers, kissing from another angle, thrusting his tongue deep within. She felt his hardness against her stomach, and she rotated her hips, wiggling against him to feel the fullness of his erection.

With her movements, he growled low in his throat, and his kisses became deeper, stronger, more commanding, and more compelling. She opened her mouth, drinking him in, kissing him and being kissed. It was a wonderful give and take that she knew was not going to stop tonight.

Derek dragged his mouth off hers and began licking and sucking her neck again. Her head fell backward, and she closed her eyes, cupping his smooth head in her hands. She gasped and cried as he nibbled a particularly sensitive spot. Stars flooded her vision, and she shivered in need.

"God, baby...You...you're..." he muttered against her neck before diving back to her mouth again. He gripped her ass in his hands, tugging her closer, as if he couldn't be so far apart from her. The intensity was growing, and she reached out for the bed...and reached a doorknob instead.

Normally, against a door would be fine—Oooh, baby, yes!—but for their first time, she was somewhat of a purist. She wanted it in a bed.

Perhaps the costume was working too well?

"Bedroom," she panted when he came up from air, and he met her gaze with a hot, hooded one of his own.

With mutual understanding, they stumbled down the hall, kissing the entire way.

As they reached the bed, Derek sat on the edge and pulled her forward so that this time, she was the one between his thighs. His look was smoldering as he reached his hands to her neckline and began to undo the buttons.

Penelope held her breath a little bit as he began undressing her. She knew that her body in Spanx and in costumes that were made with Lycra was different than completely naked. She also knew that seeing her nude was going to be very different than the other women he'd already seen in the past. Her breasts were much larger, her tummy had a swell, and her hips were fleshier. What if he—

"Oh, shit..." Derek hissed as a breast popped out of her costume.

The dress had come with its own naughty, built-in bra that lifted and exposed her mounds. He drew in a sharp breath and continued unbuttoning her dress to her waist in rapid succession and then peeling the dress off her body, leaving her wearing nothing but her stockings and a little white thong, which had seemed like a good idea at the time but now didn't cover nearly as much as she wanted it to!

Slowly, he reached out and drew a fingertip over her nipples, circling each one. "You are incredible...and beautiful." He looked up at her with the hottest, darkest mocha eyes she'd ever seen. "Incredibly, unbelievably beautiful. How did I get so damned lucky?"

His voice was husky and earnest, and Penelope felt her heart and any lingering insecurity melt away, but before she could think too much, he lowered his head and suckled a nipple into his mouth. Shock waves rolled over her, and she felt dizzy. She reached for his head, holding his suckling mouth to her and grounding herself before she floated away. She felt Derek's hands gripping her bottom, kneading the globes of her ass as he moved between her breasts. She could stand there for hours, letting Derek sweep her away in their lovemaking, but she wanted to see him, too.

Stepping back to take charge again, Penelope tugged at his shirt and removed it. "I'm the lucky one," she said, trailing her fingers over his chest and his sides. The bruises had faded to barely visible yellowish speckles that did nothing to hide his perfection. She reached for his jeans and unbuttoned the fastening.

Understanding must've dawned on Derek that she wanted him naked. A second later, he shucked his jeans and then his boxers, and he stretched out on his bed, his head on his pillow.

Penelope looked up the long length of his body. He was so strong and lean, with sculpted muscles that were earned from hard work. He had adorable hairy feet and calves that she knew from experience felt good against her smooth ones, thick, powerful thighs, lean hips, and an absolutely massive erection that jutted out away from his body. She didn't look any farther up than that. She couldn't. That part of his body demanded her attention, and her body responded in kind, pulsing and throbbing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he cooed, a smirk of satisfaction on his face. It was obvious he'd caught her staring and he liked that he'd done so. "Come lie down next to me..."

That wasn't part of her plan. She shook her head.

"No," she said, kicking the stilettos off and climbing on the bed and to his side. She slowly climbed over him on all fours,the tips of her breasts brushing against his hard chest. "You're the injured one. You shouldn't do the work this time."

His eyes flared hot and dark with understanding, and he began to smile even more. "Oh, fuck, yeah..."

As she sat back, she froze for a second. "Frack!"

He glanced up at her with both a wary and a horny expression that she found positively delightful. "What's wrong?"

She blushed. "In my exuberance to get here, I forgot to remove my thong."

"Oh, that," Derek said with a smirk. He reached a hand behind her where the little triangle of fabric rested at the top of the crease of her ass. In a flash, she heard a quick rip, and soon, he was holding the entire thing in his hand.

No wonder why men loved thongs!

"Pretty little thing..." he murmured and then brought it to his face. He inhaled the fragrance, giving her a dirty, dirty look that made her core clench, before flinging it to the side. "Now...back to business."

He didn't need to tell her twice. Penelope reached between their bodies and touched his hardness, lining him up with her opening. With her hands on his shoulders, she slowly began to sink back, the width and length of him seeming to plow her open. He groaned as he stretched her, her arms shaking with the effort of slow penetration. When she felt he could go no farther, he reached for her hips and angled them down, making her gasp as he bottomed out in her.

For a few minutes, they lay intimately locked, as Derek drew her down to kiss her. They exchanged kisses as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her.

Derek cupped her face, met her eyes, and said, "I love you, Baby Girl."

She smiled back. "I love you, too."

Those words started a cascade of movement. Derek helped anchor her upward, and she began to slide up and down, feeling the coax and release of pleasure with each thrust downward. Derek gripped her bottom to guide her as she rotated her hips. Slow, fast, each one causing ripples of sweet delight over her.

"Fuck, you feel good on my dick," he growled, arching his hips underneath her to reach even farther inside.

It was too much sensation, the dirty words and the strokes into the depth of her being. She began to come, riding him jerkily, her body wracked with heavenly spasms. She arched and cried, her hips halting and pushing down with her release.

Before she knew what was happening, Derek had flipped her onto her back, and he was thrusting into her, hard and fast. She clung to him, reaching for his pumping ass and holding on tight. He shuddered, stilled, and then after a few more thrusts, he joined her in ecstasy.

A long while later, he rolled to his side and pulled her sated, motionless, nearly napping body against his. "Good night, Penelope, my sleeping beauty."

She turned and kissed his lips softly. "Good night, Prince Derek. Sweet dreams."

"I don't need dreams anymore," he answered, squeezing her a little tighter. "I got all I ever dreamed about right here in my arms."

She nuzzled in more closely and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Me, too, love bug. Me, too."


End file.
